


Yellow Roses and Sunshine

by TheCreatorOfTales



Series: An Admission to Hospital [2]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fletch is a dumbass, Freakytits - Freeform, Joan is injured, Joan loves gardening but cant fix anything, Match made in heaven really, Protective!Vera, Vera can fix anything but can't garden for shit, Vera takes care of Joan, WE LOVE IT, WELL HERE YOU GO, and hates it, but appreciates her wife looking after her, soft sapphics, you asked for a part 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28761738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCreatorOfTales/pseuds/TheCreatorOfTales
Summary: You all wanted a Part 2, well here we go!Governor Ferguson's absence from work is noticed. And Vera is on a day off.Not being able to get hold of the Deputy, Fletch takes it upon himself to find out if she's alright, just in case she needs to go in to work.
Relationships: Vera Bennett/Joan Ferguson
Series: An Admission to Hospital [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108694
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	Yellow Roses and Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> You wanted Part 2, we'll here you go!

Vera’s absence from work the next day isn’t really noted, due to the fact that she had already been scheduled on a day off.

The fact that the Governor was not in her domain was noticed as soon as the clock struck 9am. The woman was fastidious about punctuality, and usually arrived at least 15 minutes before her shift started to have a cup of coffee in her office to settle into the day. Somehow, every single person in the building had missed the fact that the Deputy joined her for coffee in her office, and very often, walked through the front door with the Governor.

Joan’s assistant had been notified of the car accident the night before by Vera, and after making sure that her boss was mostly alright, she got to work. She'd informed the board of Joan's two week absence due to medical leave, who said that they would leave it to Vera to explain why she would be Acting Governor in the meantime.

Joan’s office was locked by the spare set she kept in a secure drawer in her desk and all calls were diverted to the assistant’s desk. She cradled a cup of tea in her hands as she watched the phone screen light up with another call from Derek Channing and this time, she let it ring. Abigail was a stark contrast the receptionist in the front of the prison. She had been informed of Joan and Vera’s marriage two days after it had occurred, and the twenty seven year old assistant was held in high regard by the both of them. She was discrete, intelligent and very good at her job. This made her highly appreciated by the Governor and her Deputy, and it showed in the bonus she got at Christmas and the gifts she received from the pair on her birthday. In return, Abigail was the gatekeeper of the Governor and the Deputy, ensuring that they were able to do their job uninterrupted by those who would otherwise cause issues.

Vera would be back in work tomorrow, and Abigail would make sure that she would have no issues in getting work back for Joan, to keep her occupied. They both knew that Joan couldn’t go two weeks with nothing to keep her busy, she’d go stir crazy.

The fact that the Governor hadn’t been seen today was flying around the prison quicker than any drug ever would.

“I’ve heard that the Governor hasn’t turned up for work today.” Franky whispered to Bea as the redhead passed her in the canteen with her breakfast. Similar conversations were flying around the canteen, with different groups of women huddling together and questioning why the woman wouldn’t be in work as usual.

“Really?”

Franky nodded. “No reason why, apparently and no warning either.”

The officers were having a similar discussion in the break room.

“Has anyone seen the Governor?” Linda asked, leaning back against the table and crossing her arms.

Will shook his head. “If she doesn’t turn up in the next hour we might have to call Vera.”

Fletch, buoyed by the fact that the intimidating Governor of Wentworth was apparently missing, shoved Will in the shoulder with a friendly grin on his face. “Why wait to call her? Call her now.”

“I wonder how her wife is.” Will murmured, slipping a hand into his trouser pockets. He can feel Linda staring a hole into his face.

“Wife? Who’s wife?” Linda questioned, and when Will won’t answer her, she turns her glare onto the man next to him who finds the wall above her head increasingly interesting.

“Vera’s wife.” He mumbled, looking anywhere but at Linda.

“Vera’s married? To a _woman?”_ She questioned, not believing him for a second and thinking it a huge practical joke. “No way. Vera Bennett wouldn’t look at a woman that way.” _Not a chance,_ she thinks. _Not like Vera would know what to do with one anyway._ There’s a spiteful undercurrent to the blonde’s thought, and in the back of her mind, she winces at it and feels a little guilty. The deputy had never done anything to her beside having a one night fling that ended in disaster for both her and Fletcher and doing her job as her supervisor. And the subtle warning she’d given to Linda before she’d gone on a few dates with Fletch had proven to be true. Vera had told her to be careful with his drinking and to watch him if got too drunk. She’d been right. The blonde had needed to put the man to bed and avoid his clumsy, wandering hands whilst doing so. She’d left his house and never accepted his offer for another date again.

“She had to go to the hospital yesterday because something was wrong with her wife.” Will explains, looking at her. “We’ll give the Gov an hour, and then call Vera to see if she knows anything.”

Fletch looks particularly disappointed that they aren’t calling the deputy immediately.

* * *

When Vera wakes, Joan is still asleep, tucked into her side. She pays no attention to the time on the alarm clock on the bedside table, and concentrates on her wife whose buried in the duvet and clinging to her like a koala bear.

Joan still has her arm around Vera’s waist, and her face tucked into her neck. She notices the furrowed eyebrows and the pursed lips on the black-haired woman’s face. It looked like the pain from her injuries was making itself known even in sleep.

Vera tenderly cups her wife’s face, pressing a kiss to the side of her forehead with no stitches.

Blinking tiredly, Joan looks up at her and meets her gaze.

“Mornin’.” She murmurs, making Vera smile. Injuries or no, Joan had never been a morning person, despite the act she liked to put on. Vera had lost count how many times she’d bribed her wife with coffee so that she would get up and out of bed. She learnt that trick early on, after Joan had mumbled that she was awake and by the time Vera would return with a mug of coffee, the woman would have burrowed herself back into the duvet and pillows and fallen back to sleep.

“Want some breakfast?” a small nod is her answer and she pats the hand clutching her waist, her wife releasing her grip so Vera can move.

In one smooth motion, Vera swings her feet over the edge of the bed and stands as Joan slowly rolls onto her back, a grimace on her face as her ribs and bruises complain at the movement and she groans lowly. Vera moves over to Joan’s side of the bed, and gently untucks the duvet from around her and holds her hands out.

In too much pain to complain about feeling like an invalid, Joan places her hand in one of Vera’s and her wife helps her sit up.

“Ugh.” Her sides throb. “Too stiff.” Her usually pristine posture is nowhere to be seen, as she slumps over as she sits, rubbing her side to try and move the pain from the bruises away.

“I know, love. But we’ll get some food and some painkillers into you and we’ll relax for the day, hm?” She glances towards the curtains, noticing the bright sunshine peeking through. “Maybe a day in the garden?”

Vera knew that the temptation of the garden would get her onto her feet. Joan would spend every minute of every day in their garden if she could. When they’d first bought the house, Joan had spent more time making the garden grow as she wanted it to than she did the house. Vera fully left the business of growing things to her wife, but all the manual tasks of fixing things were left to her.

Growing up with a financially and emotionally manipulative mother meant that Vera could fix nearly anything. Also the fact that Joan couldn’t tell what any tool was for meant that Vera was in charge of maintenance. It did mean that they saved money by not needing to call out of a repair service every time something broke.

Joan swung her legs off the side of the bed, and got to her feet, wincing slightly at the pulling sensation in her side but then turns her head to place a kiss on Vera’s cheek.

Slower than usual, the two make their way downstairs. Vera pauses at the top of the stairs, looking at Joan with a questioning expression.

Her wife shakes her head. “The more I move, the better it will be.” Her muscles may feel tight now, but the more movement she pushed herself through, the better her body would feel.

So they go down the stairs.

Together they make breakfast, working around the kitchen as they usually do, one making coffee and the other cutting fruit and preparing cereal. Vera open the double French doors, letting in the sunshine and the smell of flowers from the garden. They sit next to each other and enjoy the ethereal look of the garden from their position at the kitchen table.

They talk about small things, such as the grocery list, and a new book that Vera had finished reading. For the third time that week, they discuss whether or not to get a cat. Vera was all for it, but Joan needed some convincing.

“I can convince you.” Her voice is muffled and Joan turns her head, wondering why her voice sounds as it does. She’s pleasantly surprised to find Vera with a strawberry held between her lips, and she waggles her eyebrows at her, in a cheeky invitation.

Grinning, Joan leans over, ignoring the dull pain in her side, lifting a hand to cup Vera’s chin as she lowers her mouth to Vera’s and covers her mouth with her own, sucking the strawberry into her own mouth along with her wife’s bottom lip making her eyebrows raise and her eyes glaze over in undisguised lust. Joan pulls away smugly, pressing a quick closed lip kiss to Vera’s lips and then pulls away, chewing her pilfered prize as she does so.

“You horny bugger.”

“Hm, for you? Always.” Joan’s retort is quick, along with a salacious wink. As much as the two could spend hours together, drawing out orgasms, gasps and moans from each other, they are both acutely aware that Joan is far too sore from her injuries to do anything of the sort. Vera reaches over the table and grasps the blister pack of Joan’s pain medication and puts two in her palm. Joan had already outstretched her hand when she’d seen Vera lean forward.

They finish their breakfast, feeling the sun warm their toes as the rays creep into the kitchen, and they hear the birds outside.

It doesn’t take long to finish their breakfast, and clear the table. With the dishes in the dishwasher, they make their way back upstairs, determined to get dressed so they can enjoy the sunshine. After their usual morning routine of cleaning their teeth and faces, and using the bathroom, Joan meanders out of their en-suite to tackle the issue of getting dressed.

Joan agrees to Vera’s help in getting dressed and agrees with her wife’s suggestion that a dress is probably the easiest thing. Joan opens the large sliding door to the wardrobe, looking for a specific dress that she knows will be comfortable but will still allow her to feel attractive, despite the stitches, the bruises and the still healing cuts.

A scarlet tea dress, with tiny white polka dots emerges from the wardrobe. Its one of her few dresses, but she’d bought it on a whim and loved it. With short, floaty sleeves, the dress has buttons down the front, along with a v-neck design and is likely the easiest thing to put on. It reaches a little below mid-thigh, perfect for a day spent in the garden. She also likes that the colour matches her toes. Vera decides on a yellow summer dress with thin straps, stopping just above the knees. Both women leave their hair down, not seeing the point of putting it up.

She helps Joan slip the red dress around her shoulders, seeing her wife wince as she moved her arms to try and get her arms through the sleeves. She leaves her wife to button up the dress, as she steps into her own dress, pulling it up her body and tying the straps on her shoulders.

Vera insists on slathering Joan in sun cream before she steps foot outside. In petty revenge, Joan dumps a dollop of it on the woman’s nose, saying that if she is forced to use the cream, then so is Vera.

They eventually step out into the garden, walking down the path to the elegant summerhouse located towards the bottom of the garden.

The grass is plentiful, and at this time of year the garden is an explosion of colours. The roses have bloomed a little earlier this summer, and each bush is a different colour, some red, others are pink. Vera’s favourites are the yellow roses. There’s tulips, daisies and a whole host of other flowers that Vera doesn’t know the name of, but has watched her wife trim, water and cultivate them all until they grew into the beautiful display around them.

“Are you really making me take two weeks off?”

“Yes, and you can’t change my mind. The paperwork will be done tomorrow. Abigail has locked your office until I get in there tomorrow morning and sort some things for you to do from home.”

Joan sighs, but understands her point. She wraps her arm around Vera’s waist, the shorter woman mimicking her action and gently pulling her wife closer to her.

Vera insists that Joan sit and relax on the bench next to the water feature, and refuses any help to pull out the cushions for the daybed out of the summerhouse. Joan hates sitting around whilst Vera does everything, but knows that she’ll be scolded like an errant child if she moves to help.

The daybed is a large, circular sofa with memory foam cushions, and enough space that both Vera and Joan can stetch out on it comfortably and relax. There’s also a shade that can be pulled up from the back, Vera had insisted on adding that feature knowing how quickly her wife could burn in the sunshine. Joan had pale skin compared to her own, tanned complexion and she had a tendency to become absorbed in her books or her gardening when outside and would turn a shade of red that would make a lobster jealous.

Vera finishes her task, throwing the last pillow onto the daybed, and leads Joan over to it, making sure that her injuries aren’t hurting her as she settles amongst the many pillows.

“Right, do you need anything from the house? I’m popping to the toilet, and then grabbing us some water.”

Joan grins widely at her wife. “Could you grab my sunglasses? They should be on the table in the hallway, and my book please, darling. The one-“

“Yes, the one beside the bed, I know. Whatever would people say if they knew that Joan Ferguson was an avid fan of Jane Austen?” She teases, leaning over to drop a kiss on Joan’s smiling mouth.

“They’d say that I had good taste.” She pinches Vera’s behind gently making the younger woman squeal slightly, and then press her lips against Joan’s, with a little more heat in the kiss this time.

It doesn’t take Vera long to grab what she wants. Soon enough, she’s walking back out into the garden, closing the French doors to the kitchen to stop any unwelcome bugs from getting into the house.

She has two large bottles of cold water, Joan’s requested book and sunglasses, and her own pair of glasses and her Kindle.

She doesn’t hear her work phone ringing for the third time in an hour.

She settles on the daybed next to Joan after turning on the radio, and the couple settle to enjoy the soft singing on the radio, and dive into their respective books.

* * *

“She’s still not picking up.” Will says, ending the call.

“Something’s wrong then, I’m going to her house.” Fletch is immediately on his feet, forgetting the fact that he doesn’t actually know where Vera lives.

“She moved, remember? After her mum died.” Will reminds him.

The other man’s face falls for a moment, until he gets an idea and rushes out to the front reception. He manages to flirt his way into getting the woman to look up Vera’s address on the system, and she writes it out for him. He takes it with a wink and returns back to the breakroom, leaving the woman on the desk with a blush rising up her neck.

Despite Will’s best efforts, Fletch clocks out, puts his radio on charge, grabs his keys and is out of the building.

The man quickly drops a text to the deputy, warning her of Fletch’s impending visit and then makes a note to tell the Governor how easily the receptionist gave Fletch the address.

* * *

When Fletch turns down a road of expensive looking houses, twenty minutes later, he feels out of place in his shabby, second hand car. He counts the numbers on each house he passes, eventually coming to a stop in front of one of the furthest houses.

The front garden is immaculate, with a perfectly mowed lawn and bushes lining the edge of the property, clearly defining the property line. The large bay windows are glistening in the sunshine, immaculately cleaned. He doesn’t look into the windows, so just sees the expensive curtains in the windows. He doesn’t notice that there are two cars parked on the double driveway until he’s knocking on the door and is abruptly reminded of who else lives here.

_Vera’s wife._

He hadn’t really believed it at first. He thought it was a practical joke. But then he remembers how worried Vera had been when she’d left work in a rush, not answering their questions about her marriage that they had no idea about.

The second car looks familiar. He knows Vera’s car, the smaller black car was something that she’d gotten for herself after her mother died. It was a convertible, he knew that from the model of it, but he’d never seen it in action. The other car is larger, black and shiny. Right now, he just cant place where he’s seen it before, but it seems so familiar to him.

He knocks again.

The front door itself is fairly simple. The door is black, the handle a polished silver, with two narrow windows either side, but he cant see through them because of the gauzy white coverings, no doubt to keep prying eyes out.

He knocks a third time.

His ears pick up the faint sounds of music, and it sounded like it was coming from the backyard. He steps back off the porch, looking up at the house and notices how the path extends around the corner of the garage and he decides to follow it.

 _Vera wont mind_ , he thinks to himself. _I’m just checking to make sure that she’s okay_.

He follows the path, walking past the two cars and the garage door, around the house, coming to a stop at the tall garden gate made of wood. The immaculately trimmed hedges are on one side of him, the wall of the house on the other and the gate is too tall to look around to see if he can find Vera.

He notices that there isn’t a lock on it and decides that he’d rather have the argument with Vera about it after he’s made sure that she’s alright.

He opens the gate, the hinges not making a sound. He has the forethought to close it behind him, following the music he can hear more clearly now.

“ _…put your head on my shoulder…hold me in your arms, baby…squeeze me oh so tight…show me that you love me too…”_

As he turns the last corner before the path opens up into the garden, he can hear feminine laughter and conversation. He can’t see Vera though, so decides to walk further into the garden, past the roses that line the large expanse of grass.

He can hear that the music is coming from the end of the garden, where a fairly large summerhouse stood, with it’s double doors open wide. On the patio in front of it is a daybed, but it’s canopy is folded up so he can’t see who’s on it. However, he can see two sets of legs, one pale with bright red nail polish on the toes, and a tanned pair of legs with sparkly pink.

“Honestly, love you can’t lie there and tell me that everyone should love Austen.” He can hear Vera’s voice and hear the humour in her tone.

“I can and I will, darling.”

_He knows that voice._

It’s the sound of that voice that draws a red haze across his mind, and he storms down the garden, trampling through and crushing a bush of yellow roses in his way as he stalks his way down the garden, hands in fists by his side.

“VERA!”

Vera stiffens at the sudden shout, not expecting it and immediately turns to Joan to make sure she’s alright. Finding her wife nodding quickly, the younger woman quickly sits up, her wife following suit at a slower pace due to her body protesting painfully at any sudden movement. Vera pats her leg in reassurance, making the woman sit back slightly as Fletch makes it to the patio, storming past the metal table with their bottles of water on it and he knocks one over in his anger. He walks around until he can face the two women on the daybed, and sees Vera sat up, next to Joan Ferguson of all people!

“What the fuck, Vera?” He’s shouting and focusing on the shorter woman, so doesn’t notice the purple bruising that is visible on Joan’s legs or upper arms, and doesn’t see the small line of stitches just below her hairline on the left side of her forehead.

“Your wife is in hospital, and you’re here, laughing and singing along to fucking love songs with _HER!?”_

Vera opens her mouth, but Fletch doesn’t let her get a word in, ranting about staying faithful in marriage, and how he can’t believe that she’s having an affair with Ferguson of all people. Joan pulls herself into an upright position, and the movement pulls Fletcher’s ire on her.

“And YOU! Having a fucking midlife crisis are you?! Cant get anyone of your own, so you fuck around with someone else’s wife!?”

He continues to rant, and Joan simply glares at him from behind her large black sunglasses, eyebrow raising with every accusation he hurls at her. She can feel Vera’s back getting straighter with each insult, and reaches a hand out to grasp hers.”

“And you’re HERE instead of AT WORK! Some fucking Governor you are!”

Vera has had enough. He doesn’t get to stand there and hurl accusation after accusation at her wife, he doesn’t get to question her integrity as Governor and he certainly doesn’t get to accuse her of having a midlife crisis. He is also the last person allowed to lecture her on being faithful in marriage considering that he was sleeping with Will’s wife before she’d died. She grabs the nearest thing to her and hurls it at Fletcher with a surprising amount of force.

The hardback copy of Pride and Prejudice catches the man in the cheek, and shocks him out of his temper enough to notice Vera’s furious look. When Joan reaches up to remove her sunglasses, he notices the sparkle on her left ring finger, and then notices the stitches in her forehead. When Vera turns to her wife and holds out her left hand to take the glasses to keep them out of the way, he notices the matching wedding band on Vera’s ring finger.

He swallows thickly, suddenly feeling like the air has been pulled away from him.

“Are you quite finished, Mr Fletcher?” This isn’t Joan anymore, this is Governor Ferguson and she’s livid as she glares at him. “Is there any particular reason you’ve decided to trespass on our property, without invitation, and without cause?”

“What the fuck do you want, Fletch? Its my day off, and work already knows that _my wife,”_ she places emphasis on the word, “won’t be in work due to a medical emergency yesterday.”

“ _She’s your wife?”_ The words stick in his throat as he suddenly can’t remember how to swallow correctly.

“Well it’s her name and mine on the wedding certificate.” Vera’s answer is short. They share a meaningful look. “Get the fuck out Fletch and don’t come back. I’ll find out how you managed to find out where we lived too, don’t you think that I’ll forget about that.”

“Fletcher.” He looks over to the woman that he’s suddenly remembered is his boss, feeling nauseous. He doesn’t quite know where storming into someone’s home and trampling over roses and accusing someone of having an affair really stands in terms of work policy. “Fortunately for you, I will be on medical leave for at least two weeks after the car accident I was in yesterday. Vera will be in from tomorrow. I will leave the fate of your job in her _very_ capable hands. Now get the _fuck_ away from my house.”

Vera doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. Her hands are shaking, which Joan notices and covers with one of her own. Her lips are pursed so tightly that the bottom half of her face is going pale and the heat in her livid glare could melt steel.

Fletcher backs away, mumbling apologies and then very quickly, scarpers, back the way he came. He is careful this time to avoid crushing any flowers but when Vera looks over the top of the canopy, she notices the yellow roses trampled into the grass, the petals scattered across the grass and the plant looking rather sad and pathetic after it’s beating.

“He ruined one of your yellow rose bushes.” She says, in an angry tone of voice. Those were her favourites too.

“Motherfuck-” her swearing is cut off as Vera pushes a heated kiss to her lips, as if trying to prove to her that Fletcher’s words had no truth to them. She doesn't need to, Joan knows that all that matters to her is the opinion of the woman currently wrapping her arms around her waist. 

They lay there, arms wrapped around each other as the adrenaline wears off, both of them peppering the other with kisses.

“I love you. No matter what anyone ever says, you are the love of my life.” Vera holds her wife’s cheek in her hand, keeping her gaze on Joan’s as she says this.

Joan smiles softly as she kisses her wife and then rests her forehead against hers.

“There is nobody else that I would have as my wife. I love you.”

They listen as the sound of Fletcher’s exhaust backfiring fades away down the street, and Joan settles back with her head on Vera’s shoulder.

“You owe me a new copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

“I know. Why do you think I’m on my iPad?” She waves the tablet in her direction after she’s pulled it from the side pocket of the daybed where she’d kept it after she brought it outside with her.

They giggle like schoolgirls, continuing to enjoy the sunshine and hearing the radio.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much you lovely people! You always bring a smile to my face when I see that people read my stories!
> 
> <3


End file.
